


Fear's Embrace - A Pitch Black Love Story

by Draca_Umbra18



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tales, Feedback is greatly appreciated, Feels, First (maybe) Smut, First Fanfiction, Fluff, Nightmares, Romance, Slow Burn, Will add tags as I go, if not smut then soft-core fo sho, lots of feels, maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draca_Umbra18/pseuds/Draca_Umbra18
Summary: Years have past since Pitch Black's attempt to rid the world of the Guardians. Having been weakened and seemingly forgotten once more, the Guardians go back to spreading wonder, hope, dreams, memories, and fun to the children of the world. But, there is someone who still believes in the boogieman, even though she denies it. Even though she finds nothing to fear.





	1. Prologue

 

   "Tell me the story again!" cried the little girl cheerfully as she bounced up and down on her bed.

   "Again?" questioned her mother, "You must have heard it a thousand times by now."

   " _Pleeease_? It's my favorite." Her eyes sparkled and her dimples were plump. Her mother couldn't refuse the face her daughter was making. She chuckled softly, "Alright, but then it's straight to bed." The little girl nodded with a smile and plopped down on her bed as her mother pulled up the comforter and tucked her in, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.  
  
    "Now let’s see," said the mother, collecting her thoughts. "A long, long time ago, the world was very different than it is today. Back then the world was dark, and people lived in fear. They were afraid of monsters and shadows, but one thing made them more afraid than all the others. It was a man whom the people called--"

   "The Boogeyman!" chimed the little girl.  
  
    "Yes," the mother laughed softly. "And the Boogeyman was the King of Nightmares. He made everyone afraid, and the more afraid the people were, the stronger he became. But, even in all the fear and darkness, there was a light."   
  
    "The Man in the Moon!"  
  
    "That's right. And from his light, the Man in the Moon chose four beings to push back the shadows and defeat the Boogeyman. Do you remember their names?"

   The little girl thought for a moment, "There's Santa Clause, and the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, and, um... oh and the Sand Man!"

   "Very good. And together the four beings defeated the Nightmare King and trapped him deep within his kingdom of shadows. People were happy again, and the children could sing and dance without being afraid. The four beings vowed to protect the children of the world, and they were forever more known as?"   
  
    "The Guardians!" The little girl finished in awe. "Could you tell me the story again?"  
  
    "Not tonight sweetie. Now, are you all tucked in?"  
  
    "Yes," yawned the girl, her eyes becoming heavy with sleep. "Mommy?"   
         
    "Yes sweetie?"  
  
    "Why is the Boogeyman so mean?"  
  
    Her mother had to think for a moment, not sure how to phrase such a concept to someone so young. Finally, and somewhat sadly she responded, "Because evil cannot love." The little girl wasn't sure what her mother meant, but she nodded anyway. The gentle, loving smile appeared on her mother's face again. "Sweet dreams, ____." She gave the girl a gentle kiss on her forehead, then left the room, leaving the bedroom door open just a crack.

   ____  listened to her mother's footsteps as they faded down the hall, till she heard the creak of her parents door closing for the night. Then, as quietly as she could manage, she got up from her bed and shut her own door, watching as the golden sliver of light from the hall got thinner and thinner until it clicked shut. She fumbled in the darkness back to her bed, struggling to keep her eyes open as she crawled under the warm covers. She turned to the darkest corner of the room, where the shadows where so heavy, the little girl always thought they were breathing, "Goodnight," she whispered, as sleep rolled gently over her.

 

   " _Goodnight_ ," the shadows whispered back.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Glad you found this fic :D I know RotG came out a couple years ago, but ever since I watched it's been one of my fave movies. Pitch Black always intrigued me as a character, but I was always sad that he never really got any closure. So, I figured: Why not try to give myself closure by giving him closure, ya know? *insert Oprah meme here* This is my first fanfic, but I'm gonna try to work hard on it and update at least once a week. Any tips, tricks, criticisms, and/or suggestions, please feel free to leave a comment. Thanks, and take care!


	2. Pots and Pans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me be the first to admit that it has been waaay more than a week since I posted the prologue. I have been working on the story on paper (my writing process is old fashioned :/ ) just haven't been able to post anything. Sorry 'bout that. BUT! this is chapter 1! Hope you dudes like it, and as always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks! <3

 

 

   **BANG!**

   A metallic crash woke ____ with a start. She rolled over and tried to block out the invasive morning light with her arm, risking a groggy peek at the digital clock on the dresser. _7:38am on a damn Sunday,_ she thought.

   She waited for the noise to continue, but it seemed her grandmother was done building the space laser, or whatever it was she was up to. ____ sighed and tried to burrow deeper into the warmth of her bed, eager to get a few more winks of desperately needed sleep.

   **CLANG!**

_So much for that…_

   With a stretch, a groan, and an unceremonious yawn, she got up from bed. Bare feet padding on the cool floor, she shuffled down the hall of the quaint one-story house towards the kitchen, where she found her grandmother hunched over, sifting through the cupboards. Steel pans and cookie sheets occupied nearly every inch of counter space. ____ couldn’t help but grin and shake her head. She did this every year.

   “Morning, Gran.” She stepped over a few pots on the ground and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek.

   “Oh! Good morning, dear,” Gran said brightly. “It’s a bit early yet, I didn’t wake you did I?”

   “Nah, it’s fine. Looking for the Christmas cookie sheet again?”

   “Can’t make Santa’s cookies without it,” she chuckled. “Well, since you’re up, you mind helping me look for the damned thing? It’s in one of these fucking cupboards, I know it.”

   No one could say ____ picked up her dirty mouth from the streets. “Sure,” she laughed, starting on the other side of the kitchen. Gran always made a fuss about baking this close to the holidays, and while ____ always kinda thought she was too old to be leaving cookies out for a pudgy man in a red suite, she enjoyed spending the day with Gran, covered in flour and stamping stars and snowflakes into the dough. Apparently losing the baking sheet was just as much tradition as actually baking with it.

   “You look tired again, dear. Did you have another nightmare?”

   ____ paused her search. “Yeah, this time I was drowning. The weeds kept grabbing at my ankles. I think there was shark too?” She tried to sound nonchalant about it, but her exhaustion still sounded in her voice.

   Every night for the past few weeks she had been having nightmares. She used to get them on occasion as a child, but for whatever reason, they’ve seemed to return in full-force. Sure, she’d heard of people having repetitive nightmares when something was bothering them, but this was different. Every night brought a different dream.

   The first had been falling off the edge of a cliff. Another about giant spiders. Then it was fire, rabid wolves, killer clowns, teeth falling out, night after night, ____ faced a new terror, but she couldn’t understand why. She wasn’t really afraid of any of those things. Sure, everyone was susceptible to a good spook now and again, but it wasn’t full on _fear_. Still, it didn’t make sleep any less evasive.  

   Gran’s wrinkled brows creased as she hummed thoughtfully. “Seems to me that the Boogeyman has taken quite a liking to your nightmares.”

   “Gran, you know I’m too old for fairy tales.”

   “Well that’s news to me. You used to love hearing about those characters.”

   “It was different back then. I was a kid, and Mom and Dad…” her voice trailed off.

   Gran nodded sadly. “Yeah, I miss them too sweetheart.” She came over and hugged her granddaughter tightly. “Tell you what, how about you take a walk down to the store and pick up the ingredients for the cookies, and I’ll keep looking for that sheet. We got some fresh snow last night.”

   ____ instantly perked up. “Was it fluffy snow?”

   “The fluffiest.”

   “Did it stick to the trees this time?”

   “They’re whiter than a polar bear’s arse.”

   “Oh my god, Gran,” the two of them laughed. “Alright, a walk sounds nice.” Her grandmother gave her a peck on the head and went back to tearing apart the kitchen.

   ____ threw on her coat and grabbed her favorite scarf and mitts. She turned back towards the kitchen, “Try not to destroy the place before I get back, okay?”

 

   **BANG!**

 

   “Sonuvabitch. Sorry, what was that dear?”

   “Be back soon, love ya,” she giggled, shaking her head. Then ____ opened the door to a world of white.

 

 


	3. Bird Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sudden perspective change, I'm still experimenting with my writing style and I just feel like this perspective offers a more vibrant story. Also! Shout-out to Bucky_Loki_Girl for being the first 'book-mark', thanks for giving the story a chance! :D And thanks to all the people who have left kudos so far, that's super cool of you guys!

 

   The world was clean again. My breath hung in the air like pale smoke, cooling into tiny crystals on my scarf. According to Gran, it wasn’t the first snow ‘till it stuck, but considering just how cold it had gotten this year, it looked like the winter sun wouldn’t be able to melt away this batch until long after the holidays. Which was more than fine with me. I tested the snow with my boots, pressing odd shapes into snowbank, before giving it a good kick, sending a mini flurry into the air. I couldn’t help myself. I kicked up more snow, dancing under my own personal storm, laughing at how childish I must look, but at the same time not caring much about maturity. I’ve loved the snow since I was a little kid. It was, and always has been a kind of magic.  

   There was a little mom-and-pop shop about fifteen minutes from the house, but I decided to take the long way through the little wooded area. It was an extra ten minutes, but it would give me time to enjoy the scenery, away from the bustle of the town.

  It was a rough, man-made path that curved through the thicker part of the woods, but I was familiar enough with it that it was easy to navigate despite the ground being carpeted in snow. The old oak, maple, and birch trees stood in peaceful slumber, branches covered in fluffy padding, their leaves traded in for delicate icicles that glistened in the sun, changing what was at one point an archway of green into a frozen hall that looked like it belonged in some sort of crystal palace. The snow on the ground was soft enough that it muffled the sound of my footsteps, the occasional cry of a chickadee being the only noise to echo off the trees.  

   That was another thing I’ve always appreciated: the quiet. Although, it wasn’t always the case. When I was little, I was one of those bouncy, outgoing, had-to-sing-her-ABC’s-the-loudest kind of kids. I never really had a problem making friends - fitting in, but when my parent’s passed, all the light inside kind of just… faded. The other kids were still laughing, playing, smiling, but kid me didn’t understand back then. I was sad, I was scared, and when none of the other kids were sad with me, I felt alone. After that I started avoiding the happy sounds, preferring the empty silence. I grew up eventually, realizing that toddlers don’t really get the concepts of empathy and death, but by then I was set in my habits; by then the rest of the town slapped on labels: Weird, Damaged, Orphan, Sad Girl. The list went on until it seemed like nearly everyone had forgotten my actual name. If it hadn’t been for Gran taking me in, I’d have no one.

   I was in my twenties now. I’d gotten use to the labels and the loneliness, and despite it all, my life gave me little to complain about. I mean, I had a roof over my head, a grandmother who loved her granddaughter both softly and fiercely, who raised me to be kind and always allowed me the space to be sad when I was caught off-guard by my own emotions. I didn’t have any good friends, but that was never really an issue. Then after I turned eighteen I gained access to my inheritance, which was more than enough to support me, probably long into old age (a morbidly generous gift from my parents). I spent most of my time reading, going for nature walks, sometimes doing odd jobs around the house if only to keep my stubborn grandmother off her feet. It was far from the perfect life, but I was content.

   A chickadee perched on a branch above, causing me to pause. Its shook its feathers, the floof around its head giving it a grumpy expression. _Guess you aren’t having as much fun as I am, huh, little guy?_ I tried to whistle out the chickadee’s characteristic call; something my dad taught me when I was young. The tiny bird tilted its head towards me, before belting out a response. I felt myself smile at the little bird, about to call to it again when I heard another call behind me. It sounded closer to an imitation, like my whistle, than an actual bird.

   I scanned the trees, suddenly anxious that someone had followed me, but there was no one there. I looked back at the chickadee as it called back, but it was looking into the distance now. _Sound travels far in a bear forest,_ I tried to reassure myself. A sudden nipping gust of wind sent a shiver down my neck, whipping at my scarf and sending the little bird fluttering deeper into the trees, then just as quickly as it appeared, the breeze dissipated, carrying snowflakes into the sky.

  I decided then that perhaps I’d spent enough time alone in the woods.

 *   *   *

   The little brass bell rang as I stepped into the shop. Mrs. Yu, an older woman dressed in a sunny yellow sweater, sat behind the counter reading a book with her glasses balanced on the end of her nose. She barley looked up from her book, but offered a small smile as I gave her my short hello. Her husband was rearranging the Christmas decorations in one of the shop windows.  

   I didn’t waste any time making my way to the baking products, grabbing the essentials, plus some icing for after baking and a few other supplies we were short of at home. Placing my haul up on the counter, the woman rang me up with one hand, the other keeping her page. “You know,” she said, her voice reminding me of a librarian in how her words were so articulated. “We just got in a shipment of that dark hot-cocoa you like so much. Albert? Would you mind fetching the young lady a tin of – yes that’s the one.” The man hobbled over and placed it on the counter with the rest of my purchase.

   “That’s awesome! Thank you.” I went to grab the extra money for it but Albert stopped me.

   “Eh, it’s on the house.” He said with a husky voice. “It’s nearly Christmas after all.”

   I thanked them both again, paid for my things, and started heading back towards home, opting for the less adventurous path though town.

 

 


	4. The Dark Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, if it wasn't obvious already, I'm not doing so well with the whole "update at least once a week" thing. I know it's a common story on sites like these but I have depression and anxiety and all that fun shit so I have my dips here and there. I also just moved to a new town few months ago, got two jobs (one during the day and one for nights, so not a whole lot of energy to spare), long story short, this was a pretty bad dip. But the last two weeks or so I've kept seeing emails that I'd received kudos, and it's really exciting to know people are actually interested in the fic and i just really want to share this whole tale I've got stuck in my head. It's always a worry though that what I write will be too simple, too complicated, too boring or fast or mediocre, but I want to try. So if you dudes are willing to be patient with me, I'm willing to kick my butt into writing gear. Hopefully it'll be good for me to have a project to work on. I can't promise consistency, but so long as at least one person is enjoying themselves, that's enough for me. Anyways I'm pulling a Markiplier here so HAVE A CHAPTER ALREADY!

 

   We were absolutely covered in flour.

   By the time I'd gotten home from the store, Gran had found the baking sheet and had put the kitchen back together. It only took us three tries to find the right setting on the electric mixer, but by then both us and the back-splash of the counter were looking like a modern splatter painting. It later became a game to see how much cookie dough I could sneak before Gran caught my fingers with the wooden spoon, at least until I caught her sampling the dough herself when she thought I wasn't looking. After cutting out little snowflakes and star shapes, we placed the sacred backing sheet into the oven and waited impatiently as the most amazing smell of warm cookies wafted through the house.

   Now Gran was relaxing in her reading chair, as I moved around a few blackened logs in the fireplace. "How'd you manage to get flour on your back?" She laughed.

   "That was from _you_ wiping your hands on me, remember?" I retorted, moving over to my spot on the couch. Gran brought her hand up in feigned insult, "Surely I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. You must be mistaken, granddaughter."

   "Mm hm", I sassed back, dipping an icy blue snowflake in my mug of dark cocoa and giving it a nibble. I sat deeper into the couch, watching the snow fall silently outside, as if to not disturb the calm that had settled over our little world. The full moon was just barley peeking out from the cracks in the clouds, glowing with an ethereal light. In our hidden corner of the woods, with the last warmth of the embers fading, it all felt so peaceful.

   "Alright," Gran pulled herself from her chair with a groan, "It's 'bout time I hit the hay. You should think about doing the same yourself soon."

   "I will in a minute, I'm just going to make sure the fire's burned down enough first. 'Night, Gran." She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek, "Goodnight ____."

   "You remembered to take your pills, right?"

   "Now don't you go worrying about me, I can take care of myself just fine, Hun."

_Typical stubborn answer from a typical stubborn woman,_ I thought, but I just smiled a little and shook my head. We wished each other a second 'goodnight', and I listened as Gran's steps faded down the hall. The embers quickly lost their light after that, and it was my turn to tuck in. I went into the bathroom and washed up the rest of the aftermath from the nights activities.

   I changed into some shorts and an old tee-shirt, and laid down, pulling the covers up to my chin. With my head resting on the pillow, I found myself staring into the dark corners my bedroom, wondering what nightmares I'd find myself in tonight...

 

*****

   _There's that odd feeling that buzzes in the back of your mind when you realize you're dreaming._

_The ground was cool where I sat, and looking around I quickly noticed that all around me, there was nothing but black. This wasn't like the other nightmares, this dream felt empty, like sitting in a dark theater waiting for the movie to start playing on the screen._  
  
_I stood up, my limbs feeling light and heavy all at the same time. I took a soundless step forward, then another, making my way to nothing in particular. To say the emptiness of this place was unsettling would be an understatement, but my curiosity kept my feet moving. Even my breath felt pointless, like breathing was a habit as opposed to a necessity here._

_As I wandered aimlessly, I began to feel like I was being watched. I couldn't tell from where, or from what, but I stopped and turned to look behind me. There, far in the distance was a pair of golden lights. No, not lights._

   Eyes.

   _I started towards them, but they swiftly pulled back into the never ending darkness. "Um... hello?" I called out hesitantly, my voice sounding like I was underwater._

_No answer._

_I scanned the black, finding them again in the distance. "Hey, wait!"  I tried to follow the eyes, but my foot seemed to fall through the ground. I gasped as I tumbled through the stiff air, falling forward only to find myself on my back a moment later. The whole time, my mind reeling to make sense of what was up and what was down. Everything felt like it was spinning, like a compass needle that can't find north. Panic started building up in my gut, my eyes darting around trying to locate some kind of threat._

_Laughter, dry and masculine, bounced off of non-existing walls, ringing in my ears and vibrating through my bones. Every childish instinct in me told me to cover my eyes and curl protectively around myself, but I fought the urge, standing as tall as I could. "Come on then! It's not like I've been through enough shit already. What's it going to be this time?"  I tried to make my uncertainty sound like confidence._ Come on ____, if you know it's a nightmare, you can control it! _,_ _I tried to coach myself. Another laugh rang in the dark."Ha ha ha... Yes, it's only a nightmare~."_

_The voice was smooth, sultry, dripping with sarcasm. I hadn't said that out loud, had I? I searched frantically for the speaker, the air becoming heavy, the space somehow growing darker the harder I looked into it. My thoughts juggled fear and weak courage until a shape began to form in the shadows. It was a man, tall and slender. Dressed in a black robe that melted into the darkness behind him, his arms relaxed behind his back. His skin was a stone grey, his raven hair spiked and slicked back, and there, staring down at me, were a pair of golden, predatory eyes. "But I can assure you, dear ____: You are_ not _the one in control here."_

_I couldn't help the shiver that ran up my spine and caused my voice to shake. "W-who are you? What do you want?" The man smiled, showing off teeth that were too white, and too sharp. "You should know who I am by now ____," There was a hint of an English accent as he bowed dramatically, never breaking eye contact with me. "My name, is Pitch Black. And might I say, it's a_ pleasure _to finally meet you face-to-face."_

   Pitch Black.  _The name sounded so familiar. Fragments of memories began to piece together in my mind; Dad checking the closet for monsters, the tales Mom would tell me before bed, that presence that every child would feel in the late hours of the night. "You... You're the Boogeyman. You're the cause of these nightmares?"  
_

_"Correct, my dear."  His face was smug- proud even. But I was still confused. The 'King of Nightmares' was talking to me, had been bringing me bad dreams. Why? This had to be just another figment, right?_ The Boogeyman is just a children's story.

   _I was certain I had only thought the statement, but as soon as I had, Pitch's face twisted in anger and his hands had moved from behind his back to clenched fists at his side. "Oh, but I am much more than a bedtime story!" He spat. Pitch made a quick motion with his hand, and suddenly the world tipped. I yelped as a tumbled through the emptiness, falling... down? Up? It was too much, this nightmare felt too real. I landed hard on the cold ground, groaning as I wondered if the pain would follow me out of this dream.  
_

_"What's wrong, ____? Aren't you having fun?" A throaty chuckle, "Because I know I am~."_

_"Why are you doing this?_ What do you want _?!" On the verge of tears, it was becoming clear that whatever Pitch's intentions were, he was enjoying watching me struggle. He looked down at me as he came to stand in front of my shaking frame. I tensed, preparing myself for another shift in the terrain, or at the very least more sadistic gloating, but I wasn't sure how to react when he knelt down and offered a slender hand._

_"I want you to let me in."_

_My brows furrowed as I stared at the hand. Pitch's face was emotionless, except for his eyes; His eyes were blazing with that predatory hunger. I reached out my own hand, only to quickly take it back. Instead I pushed myself up and away from the ominous man. I had no idea what this was all about- no way of knowing if any of this was real- but every fiber in my  being was telling me not to trust this man. If Pitch wanted me to "let him in",  I had to do everything I could to keep him out._

_"I'm going to wake up now." I said sternly, demanding myself more-so than him. Pitch's eyes flashed from eager to anger to cold, calculating stillness. He pulled his hand back sharply and rose, allowing me to realize just how far he towered above me._

_"Fine. This could have gone much easier, you know. But if you insist on being difficult, I'm sure I can find a way to-" His face cracked into another sharp-toothed grin, "-persuade you..."_

_Just like that, the ground beneath me fell away, and I was thrust into the black one more time, silent screams choked by shadows. All I could hear was the Nightmare King's fading voice:  
_

_"See you in your next nightmare, dear ____."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the AN before, I'm struggling with my own confidence in my writing abilities (this one chapter literately took me 4 days to write...). I know it may sound needy considering I'm not yet an established writer on this site yet, but if anyone has any feedback, ideas, criticisms, please feel free to leave a comment. Take care dudes :)


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